Ethos
by kurgaya
Summary: AU canon divergence - Though they're trapped in the dungeons of Las Noches, Aizen's not waiting for them to act. But why, Shinji cannot say.


**Notes**: Written for my '**trapped together**' prompt for the hurt/comfort bingo on livejournal. I was aiming for Shinji and Ichigo banter, but somehow Hiyori threw herself into the mix and I ended up with this. Honestly, it's a lot more light-hearted than it sounds.

**WARNINGS**: implied/referenced torture, mild injury, Hiyori swearing a lot

For **Chick1966** who asked very kindly (...a while ago... Better late than never I suppose? :3)

* * *

><p><strong>Ethos<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong>

Remember us – if at all – not as lost  
>Violent souls, but only<br>As the hollow men,  
>The stuffed men<p>

* * *

><p>The gaps between the frigid steel bars of the cell are large enough for Shinji to grasp his arm through, but no matter how far he stretches across the enclosing darkness of the fortress' dungeons, the shrouded occupant hunched in the opposite cell is beyond his reach.<p>

Hiyori, who has never once failed to be a bundle of firework nerves and unpredictable explosions, grumbles something under her breath and kicks the lean blond from where she's chained beside him. The force is hardly enough to quake Shinji's bones; in fact, it's a pretty lame strike on Hiyori's monstrous scale. She's worried, Shinji notes, and since that thought it almost as ridiculous as the situation they're stuck in, he retracts his arm reluctantly, not that the young man in the other prison notices, and glares down at his scowling companion.

"You're just wasting your time," Hiyori spits before he can say anything to redeem himself. Despite it probably meaning to, the harshness of her tone fails to distract Shinji from observing how her gaze flickers through the metal bars, her scowl deepening for a reason entirely separate from her criticism. He mirrors her concern for the briefly of seconds, willing the silent figure across the hallway (if you could call the rotting floor of a dungeon that) to even give the slightest of indications of life, but when the cackling of chains is the only sound beyond the steel cage sizzling under Hiyori's glare, Shinji huffs and admits a temporary defeat.

He doesn't know exactly how long they're been trapped together under the weight of endless moonlight and Aizen's heavy, wrathful stare, but for Hiyori and he it's likely been a few winding centuries, and for Ichigo –

– well.

"Oh he's just _sulking_ because he lost a fight," snaps Hiyori, her condensed posture tight with tension. When Shinji doesn't do anything to defend the teenager's pride bar raise one of his eyebrows, she rolls her eyes dramatically and half-scrambles over the other Visored to bellow: "Oi, moron! Lift your useless head and give us a wave you pathetic dick!"

She could amplify her voice twice-fold if she wanted to (and render Shinji deaf in the process), but that Hiyori doesn't do so speaks volumes about how she's feeling in regards to their entrapment. She's definitely angry, there's no doubt, but after hours of watching Ichigo wallow in (what Shinji hopes is a self-imposed) silence just feet away, _pissed_ isn't quite a vulgar enough word to cover how much they want to wring Aizen's neck and blow this dump to hell.

They'll get their chance, Shinji is almost certain. Ichigo and the politics of the Seireitei may not share much loyalty, but the same cannot be said for Ichigo and the _shinigami_ of the Gotei Thirteen. The teenager is the fire that draws the moths - captains, lieutenants, and seated officers alike revolve around him; he's their centre, he's their inspiration. And those outside of the Gotei Thirteen shouldn't be forgotten - Ichigo's family, human friends, Shinji's vagabond group of Visored, and Urahara's motley crew are all the same. Ichigo is vital to all of those people, so the Visored leader knows that it will only be a matter of time before someone (probably plenty of people) comes and breaks them out.

Trying to escape on their own would be risky - unknown variables pile high above them like the countless levels of Las Noches they would have to sneak through. Luck is often on their side, but Shinji supposes if fortune had favoured them then they wouldn't be trapped in this godforsaken hole in the first place. If they had access to their zanpakuto or Hollow capabilities then perhaps it would be different, but still, Shinji can't say for certain how 'different' it would be. Aizen's soldiers are enough of a challenge; add the power-hungry ruler himself into the battlefield and heaps of trouble would ensue.

"Fine, shoe it is," Hiyori says - to herself more than anyone, but the words definitely have a hint of warning to them that makes Shinji grateful that her anger isn't aimed at him.

(_Ah_, what's he saying? Hiyori's always angry with him).

The grumbling Visored slips off a sandal and shuffles around to hone in on her target. Wisely pressing himself far out of the way, the other blond marvels at her spirited animation; she's as lively as a child's toy, wound up to its limits and then left to rage forever.

She's frightening, that's what she is. Shinji suppresses a wince as Hiyori shrieks something and hurls the sandal between the bars. He's selfishly glad (just for a moment) that Ichigo - not he - is the centre of her frustration. The wince drops into a heavy sigh of indignation as the little shoe passes straight through the other cell and smacks against Ichigo's head with perfect accuracy. Hiyori cheers and repeats her taunt from earlier as the shoe flops beside the motionless teenager. Shinji dares not tear his eyes away from the scene, lest he miss the impending aftermath of Hiyori's backwards encouragement.

And Ichigo -

Ichigo moves.

Slowly, as if the mere thought of reaching for Hiyori's sandal is agonising, the ginger teenager picks up the shoe. His fingers are ghostly white in the brief second that they venture from the safety of the black shinigami robes, but they clasp the plastic with the strength of a warrior, wielding his faithful blade.

Hiyori looks like she's about five seconds away from launching to her feet. Shinji hopes she won't - the chains don't stretch that far, and he's not really in the mood for a lapful of her monstrous attitude.

"Aha!" she cries, victorious. "I knew that would wake you, you arsehole!"

Ichigo turns the shoe over in his hand, blatantly ignoring the truth of the jibe. His face is still shadowed beneath the dying umber of his hair so Shinji cannot perceive what treacherous expression is carved into it, but the ex-captain takes what he can. That Ichigo responded to Hiyori's violence is surprising - they've frequented the Visored lair with their roaring tempers before, but Shinji hadn't thought the threat of a shoe would have actually given rise to Ichigo's arguments in the desolation of the dungeons of Las Noches.

Clearly proven wrong, Shinji can do little more than watch as the substitute lifts his head to glare his legendary scowl at Hiyori. The boy's eyes are dark, but where they were once - no doubt - threatened with emptiness and despair, now there is a flicker of fire; of determination, and his witty exasperation in face of Hiyori's relentless personality.

"_You_ try and not wake up to someone lobbing their sandal at your head."

"Pfft - you're just a weakling," Hiyori counters proudly. "Throw that back and I'll show you!"

"No thanks," Ichigo replies, turning the shoe in question over as if there's something particularly special about it (it's probably the countless impressions of his face, flattened into the sole from years of abuse).

Hiyori growls ("Scared-y cat!") and twists to remove her other shoe.

"If you do that, you won't have either of them," Ichigo notes dryly, amusement lifting onto his face.

"Shut your trap," the other says, but she halts her movements and eyes the substitute shinigami appraisingly, as if she's only just realised that she probably won't be getting her shoe back for some time. "Arsehole."

Shinji heaves a sigh which passes unnoticed by his companions. Truly, he cannot say he minds listening to their endless bickering. It's more bearable than Ichigo's former silence, and far less concerning. Irritating, yes, but as Ichigo snipes and snaps and Hiyori tries to throw herself into the other cage, Shinji feels gratitude more than anything else.

The feeling won't last, he's sure, not once Aizen draws his next card, but it's a momentary reprieve; a release from their entrapment; a distraction.

It won't be enough, eventually, so Shinji tries to enjoy it while he can.

* * *

><p><strong>II<strong>

And voices are  
>In the wind's singing<br>More distant and more solemn  
>Than a fading star.<p>

* * *

><p>The guards whisper as they walk past. Shinji has learnt to <em>listen<em> over many years - not just to spoken verses, but to the secrets within the language of the body; posture, movement, and expression. Ranked no higher than Arrancar, the Hollow beings that patrol the hallways rotate frequently; Shinji hasn't quite concluded how often in a day (their meals are few and far between), but multiple times he is certain. There is probably a day shift and a night shift, but the Visored wouldn't put it past Aizen to mix things up just to confuse him.

(He curses the traitor under his breath, but then remembers that playing around with guard schedules is something _he_ would do too, if the situation called for it, and he echoes the curse for himself).

Most of what he overhears from the Arrancar is useless - grousing about duties, snarling to each other like whining teenagers. Shinji tries to file as much of it away as it can anyway, so that later, when it's dark (darker) and Ichigo and Hiyori are slumbering stress away, he can pick through the information like a miner, digging for gold.

As he said, most of it is pointless rubbish, but occasionally Shinji stumbles upon something worthwhile.

He learns that Aizen spends most of his day alone, admitting no one to act the part of his company. The Espada are restless and frustrated (or, the ones that can experience such emotions are) and the fraying edges of disarray is threatening to tear the ranks. The Arrancar guards, especially, complain about this change when they think they cannot be heard - outbreaks of violence are increasing in frequency through the fortress, so _why is Aizen-sama doing nothing to rein in his prize dogs?_

(Shinji never sees those two guards again. Enough is said).

The word 'Szayelaporro' starts to crop up more often in the snippets of conversation that he overhears, but he can only hazard guesses as to its meaning. There is a lot Shinji can only pretend to know, but over time the fragments start to piece themselves together: whatever the shinigami are scheming, Aizen either doesn't completely understand it, or he doesn't give a damn about it. The Espada are clearly struggling to adopt their leader's composure if the latter is the case, and Shinji can only hope that Aizen is the one grasping the wrong end of the stick about the situation.

(The Gotei Thirteen should not be underestimated. Shinji knows the strength of his family's fury is enough to quake entire cities, so he can imagine the force of a truly rattled hoard of captains and lieutenants).

(It amuses him and saddens him all the same).

How much time has passed since their capture is eventually brought to light as well. Shinji savours the brief moment of success that he feels upon realising his day count isn't terribly far off the mark, but once the guards move on and the hallway is plunged into silence again, the Visored only wishes he were wrong.

Two weeks they've been sitting here. In that time they've had perhaps three days' worth of good meals between them - the other days, food was scattered and seldom remembered. It's hard to tell if Ichigo has been eating or not - alone in the other cell, he still shrouds himself in the comfort of his robes, hands grasping the fabric where they cannot grasp Zangetsu. Hiyori's deteriorating physical health is a far more useful indication of the passing time, though Shinji would much prefer it wasn't.

He cannot help but think it queer, however, that not once have they been separated or removed from their confinement. If Aizen was planning on letting them die then the patrol of guards would be unnecessary, and though scarce, the food would simply be a waste on the awaiting dead. Thus, he must be waiting for something - but what, the Arrancar dare not breathe a word about (though the chance they're privy to the workings of Aizen's minds is extremely doubtful, so Shinji figures they wouldn't know any answers anyway). If he's waiting for the trio's first (and only, most likely) escape attempt, then he's going to be sitting around for a while.

This thought amuses Shinji, but only until Hiyori rolls over in her sleep and snores a sound terribly similar to a whimper.

Aizen's not waiting for them to act - but why, Shinji cannot say.

(He'll work it out eventually, as he always does - at the last possible moment when there's nothing he can do).

He's no closer to discovering Aizen's intentions when a pair of grisly looking Arrancar halt their patrol in the space between the two prisons two days later. They snarl and jeer at each other, slinking their gazes between the three Visored. One of them pokes his arm through the rust of the bars and flicks Shinji's cheek - the blond doesn't react, but Hiyori goes still beside him, and across the hallway a glare is burning through Ichigo's fringe.

The Arrancar huffs at the lack of reaction and pulls away. The other one turns towards Ichigo with the same predatory air, and Shinji has thrown himself up to twist his fist around the haunting white clothing before he's realised what he's doing. Both of the guards squawk at the unexpected movement, reaching for their blades. Hiyori latches onto Shinji's shirt and tugs him backwards, Ichigo opens his mouth to say something, and from down the corridor footsteps approach - _two sets_, Shinji thinks as he tumbles, chains clattering and knotting around his feet in emphasise of his helplessness.

"Hey, hey, hey!" calls the first newcomer, her voice as light and springy as her steps as she bounds into view. For a split second, Shinji thinks he's hallucinating when a little girl plants herself between the two Arrancar and scowls fiercely at them both. "No roughhousing the prisoners!"

The guards hesitate long enough for a second voice to repeat the girl's demand, though where her tone was sharp and playful, the other is low and bored enough to remind Shinji of the lazy power that Shunsui Kyoraku wields.

"Lilynette said enough," the man drawls, yawning at the violent display. "Hmm," he adds to himself, blinking blearily. "Should have slept longer."

Although the Arrancar hurl themselves away from the cells at the order, their behaviour appears to be ignored by the superior duo. As the girl whirls around to belittle the shaggy-haired man ("Go shove it where the sun don't shine, idiot! I was doing just fine before you stepped in!") Shinji takes a moment to gauge the Arrancars' fear before settling his focus upon the arguing figures - Espada, he realises, keeping his expression neutral. And probably powerful ones if the man's resemblance to the Eighth Division captain is enough to go by.

It's the way Kyoraku walks that reveals how dangerous he is.

The Espada walks in the same way.

"Hey you!" Lilynette says, pointing a finger at Shinji. She doesn't look particularly threatening, holding her other hand on her hip, and he isn't entirely sure how to respond. "Don't just sit there staring like a fool, on your feet!"

Then she rounds on Ichigo and clicks her tongue at his dishevelled appearance. "And you - up, up, we've got our orders!"

"What a drag," says the nameless Espada, yawning again as Shinji and Ichigo stare silent questions at each other. "They're not listening to you, Lilynette."

"_Nobody_ listens to me!" shrieks the girl. Yanking a key out of her partner's pocket, the little Espada (Shinji _assumes_ she is an Espada) fights open the lock on Ichigo's cell. Although chained to the far wall, the substitute still shifts at the fleeting, unreachable escape route, his glare hardening as Lilynette huffs at the other Espada and motions, reluctantly, for assistance.

Shinji watches without a sound as the dark haired male rolls his eyes and steps towards Ichigo. Hiyori hisses something low beside him, but they both know that there is little they can do at this point to reduce Ichigo's defencelessness. The best option for both Shinij and Ichigo would be to go quietly - though not willingly - as there is every possibility that they will be kept together once removed from their prisons, so Shinji tilts his head and hopes the young ginger will understand.

Ichigo grumbles but doesn't lash out as the Espada hulls him up. Shinji notes that the unidentified man has a strong grip for someone who appears so lazy, which further emphasises his association with Shunsui Kyoraku and makes the Visored frown.

"Oi Starrk, just the guys, right?" Lilynette asks as she unlocks Shinji and Hiyori's cell.

The other Espada agrees, yawning so loudly that beside him still rattling in chains, Ichigo tries to lean away to protect his eardrums. The substitute's feet are bound together which makes walking challenging, but with Starrk's grip (lax, almost reluctant) on his arm, he couldn't flee even if he wanted to. It is this, more than the girl's persistent demanding, that has Shinji rising obediently and tumbling out of his cell. He sends what he hopes is an encouraging expression in Ichigo's direction (though _encouraging_ has never really been Shinji's forte) and tunes out Hiyori's griping about being left on her own.

(_Probably for the best_, he thinks. He'd rather her never cease complaining than never have the breath to complain again).

"Keep the noise down and I won't have to do anything," Starrk says as he maneuvers Ichigo to walk (shuffle) in front of him.

Lilynette huffs as if the order is directed at her and kicks Shinji into following. The Visored goes quietly, but only due to his need to gather as much information as possible, rather than any belief he may hold in the unenthusiastic threat of the Espada.

In front, Ichigo says nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>III<strong>

In death's other kingdom  
>Walking alone<br>At the hour when we are  
>Trembling with tenderness.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Well<em>, Shinji thinks (tries to think; _thinks_ he thinks) over the agonising pounding in his head as the blotchy rot of the prison cell blurs into existence in front of his eyes. He squints at the evening sun of Hiyori's hair, dirty with grime but still sharp against the damp grey of the walls, and hisses a curse, clutching his head. Fingertips already raw return covered in blood, so the Visored wipes them on his shirt and does his best to ignore it. Head injuries are always melodramatic. It's not like he needs reminding that his skull feels bashed in three ways to Sunday.

Hiyori makes a noise of protest at his carelessness, which is soon echoed by the chains still securing her in the corner. Shinji heaves himself up so that he's sitting beside her, though with the rush of sickness that the movements brings, he cannot be completely sure that he maneuvers himself correctly. He's pretty certain it _is_ Hiyori next to him, at any least, so he can't be terribly far off the mark.

"What the hell happened to you?" the spunky girl asks a moment later, confirming her identity to the dizzy Visored.

"Oh," Shinji replies, waving one hand dismissively. The reiatsu-suppressing cuffs are still attached, he notes, though some of his fingernails are markedly not. "This and that."

He knows what 'Szayelaporro' means now, anyway.

"Limbs all still attached?" Hiyori goes on, and though the question is crudely worded, Shinji does take a second to wiggle all his fingers and toes just to humour her.

"Peachy," he says, and considering he vaguely remembers sharp tools and impending mutilation, Shinji wonders if his apparent lack of bodily harm is something he should be worried about. He isn't feeling any pain beyond the tiny sting to his fingers and the ache in his head, but there could be all manner of wounds tearing him apart beneath his skin. Yet since he cannot determine exactly what the scientist Espada has done (if anything), the blond Visored turns to his companion instead. "Are you alright?"

Hiyori sniffs, disgruntled. Metal clanks as she flops back against the wall. "Fine, dickhead. Nobody's so much as walked past since you were carted off. You were only gone for a couple hours maybe - you haven't missed any meals or shit. Not that they're bothering to feed us anyway."

Shinji hums at the information, displeased. It doesn't feel like he's been gone for hours, but he doesn't doubt Hiyori's assessment. Realising he has no way of piecing together the little new knowledge he has, the Visored rolls sideways to avoid knocking his throbbing skull as he faces Ichigo's cell. Though partly fuzzy due to Shinji's gradually improving eyesight, the opposite prison remains shrouded in shadows. He squints to locate Ichigo's characteristic inferno hairdo, and then leans closer when he perceives only darkness.

A tug at his chains forces him to sit down again. Shinji's voice is fierce when he asks; "Where is Ichigo?"

Hiyori's returning expression is just as dangerous. "Hell if I know!" she blurts, leaning around him to confirm their companion's questionable location. "I thought he was with you?"

Shinji's brain whirs, but the silence of his answer condemns them. Hiyori hisses a curse and kicks him - the pain is dull without her sandals, which are still sitting neglected where Ichigo used to be, and Shinji knows it is punishment for failing to keep an eye on the youngest member of their group.

(Their family).

He doesn't apologise. But he might, he's sure, depending on the state at which Ichigo returns in.

_If he returns_. Shinji tries not to dwell on that thought, even as the time ticks on and the silence encloses them; guards beyond the corridor grouse as they patrol, but footsteps never approach. The Visored listens out for the roar of Ichigo's temper - the relentless tempest to his mayhem - but hardly a flicker of sound is heard to sooth Shinji's concern. Though he has doubts of Ichigo's demise (his knowledge of Aizen is conversant and unsurpassable; a captain's watchful eye), he knows there is always the possibility of the unpredictable taking place.

Shinji would rather _he_ face the consequences of his error. Ichigo has done nothing to warrant his involvement in torturous politics and the mistake of a man he considers a friend, but it seems, as a door grinds open in the distance and voices arguing a struggle amplify, that his _participation_ has been unavoidable.

It is the shaggy haired Espada who approaches - _Starrk_, Shinji recalls, unable to prevent his body from lurching upwards as Ichigo's crippled form is carried towards him. The boy is motionless in the Espada's hold; eyes closed and passive, he doesn't appear to be harmed. The white of Starrk's gloves is distinct against the shreds of Ichigo's dark uniform, but seeping with the substitute's blood the Espada's hands are not. This is only a small comfort as the other Espada - the girl, mute and dragging her feet behind her partner - pulls out a key from her pocket and drives it into the lock. The metal groans, but Ichigo is silent and unaware as Starrk steps into the inhabited cell and lays him next to the Visoreds' feet.

Shinji's glare follows the movements, but he says nothing, not wanting to push his (Ichigo's) luck. Starrk reattaches the chains and checks the suppressors on Ichigo's wrists, humming to himself with a sour expression. The substitute doesn't stir at the ghostly touches and the Espada drags himself away, looking for all intents and purposes as if he had _wanted_ Ichigo to wake.

(In the doorway Lilynette sniffs and kicks the ground).

Uncertain as to what he should do with this moment of insight, Shinji lifts an eyebrow in question at the rugged man. It's not behaviour he would usually display to his captives by any means, yet there is something _off_ (something _not-enemy_) about the Hollow duo that prompts him to take a gamble. Most Arrancar and Espada would reply with a sneer and double the amount of chaos left in their wake, but the de facto Visored leader cannot say he is surprised when Starrk simply steps out of the cell and beckons his partner to re-lock it.

Time claws by, tense.

The Espada make no move to leave under Shinji's wary glare, but as impatient as ever, Hiyori ignores the silent confrontation and wiggles over to Ichigo. She digs her fingers into his neck to check for a pulse, but almost immediately wrenches her hand back with a startled hiss. At the sound, Shinji tears his gaze away from the Espada and grapples for Ichigo's wrist, noting instantly what the problem seems to be.

"I'll find some blankets," Starrk grumbles, a sigh in his voice as he walks away. "But they will do little if you cannot wake him."

Lilynette trots behind him, her hands stuffed into her pockets. Shinji barely glances up as they leave.

"He's fucking _freezing_," Hiyori says, hovering uselessly over the terrible shivers of the substitute's body. "What have they done to him? Thrown a tanker of water over him?"

Shinji doubts it - though pale and cold, neither Ichigo's clothes nor body are wet. Yet the teen trembles as if they are, so Shinji shrugs out of his jacket (not what he usually wears, but _thank god_ he is), and throws it over Ichigo's icy torso. The shivering doesn't quell, but from the little he knows about hypothermia, the Visored leader figures that's likely not the worst that could happen.

"Ichigo?" he tries, tapping the boy's cheek gently.

The substitute clearly doesn't have the energy to reply - but Hiyori does, shoving him with a tut and roll of her eyes. "You're doing it wrong, moron," she reprimands, and for a split second her expression makes Shinji think she's going to _punch_ Ichigo into consciousness.

But she doesn't.

"OI!" she bellows instead, and the only reason Shinji doesn't jump out of his skin is because he had all of two seconds to prepare himself. "EARTH TO DICKHEAD! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!"

Ichigo doesn't so much as twitch at the shout, but there's a yelp from down the hall from one of the guards.

"_Hiyori_," Shinji grumbles, plugging his ears to save them from the volume. He doubts the cowardliness of the guards will come and investigate while she's still roaring her head off, but there's every chance that they'll go and report the ruckus to someone of authority; someone Shinji would rather not deal with at the moment.

Hiyori, to no one's surprise, continues: "STOP LAZING AROUND LIKE A WEAKLING - !"

"Hiyori!"

" - AND GET YOUR STUPID-ARSE HEAD OFF THE - "

"HIYORI!"

"WHAT?" she snaps, glowering at him. "Jesus, you don't have to shout at me, dickhead."

Shinji opens his mouth to argue like he always does, the banter between them currently misplaced but surprisingly comforting, in a way, when a weak rumble of laughter wavers around the cell like the final flicker of a candle, wax melted and sloshed.

"Clearly," Ichigo says, slurring the first syllable of the sound. With heavy eyes he stares blearily at his companions, his eyebrows furrowed deeper than their customary scowl. He is slow to find Shinji's anxious gaze, and even slower in inspecting their location. "Where are we?"

"Same place we were before," Hiyori explains shortly. Now that Ichigo is awake, she shuffles back against the wall and resumes her previous position like a wary guard dog. Shinji stays put, diligently checking the substitute's body for injuries, and motions for Hiyori to watch the far door for the Espadas' return.

"Huh," the teenager sighs, his voice lethargic with question. He wiggles restlessly, as if failing in an attempt to sit up. The shivering continues, but Ichigo seems oblivious to his body's desperation to generate warmth. "Where are we?"

_You've already asked me that_, Shinji nearly says, but the tremendous weight of the door opening out of sight distracts him; Hiyori whispers a confirmation, and Starrk strides over to their prison.

"Blankets," the Espada announces, passing over the bundle. There is one for each of them, but Shinji chucks them all over Ichigo. The substitute shinigami's reaction to the onslaught is little more than a dozed hum, but he doesn't feel quite as dangerously cold as the layers wrap around him.

The Espada yawns, sounding as tired as Ichigo looks, and leaves without a further word.

"Weirdo," Hiyori mutters.

Shinji agrees.

* * *

><p><strong>IV<strong>

Sightless, unless  
>The eyes reappear<br>As the perpetual star,  
>Multifoliate rose<p>

* * *

><p>Ichigo doesn't get any worse, but he doesn't get any better either.<p>

He sleeps for hours at a time, hot with sweat and cold with the terrors of his dreams. The whimpering is the worst (a childish sound; a wounded pup, reluctant to draw attention) but the delirious muttering is just as agonising to listen to. Shinji wishes he could forget every call and question that falls from the teen's fevered filter, but he cannot turn away or block his ears lest Ichigo's condition deteriorates in his selfishness. Instead, the blond man chains himself to the substitute's side (literally; if he could) and measures every change in the pale, shivering body, and hopes each one is a positive sign.

When Ichigo wakes, he barely stirs. Conversations are one-sided and confusing to both participants. He oftens tries to sit up or roll over, but rather he wiggles and flails, trapped tightly in the mound of blankets (and Shinji's jacket). The chains around his ankles are entirely unnecessary in keeping him still, though they cannot be removed as much as Shinji wants them to be. The Visored leader doesn't want to think about the likelihood of Ichigo needing medical attention.

(It's likely, he knows).

The Espadas' version of a medic (whatever that is) doesn't make an appearance over the passing days, but then since nobody does Shinji figures it could be worse. (No news is better than bad news after all). There's no word on Soul Society's movements either, and he tries not to let that worry him as much as it could. Scarcely three weeks have passed in Las Noches. At the month mark, Shinji will start to contemplate escaping. It will be a futile attempt - he's certain; with Hiyori's growing silence and Ichigo's declining health, it would be a miracle if they even made it up to the next floor.

Before, he was convinced that Soul Society would come.

Now, he's _predominantly_ sure they'll _eventually_ arrive.

(Prior to Ichigo freezing to death? Questionable).

The feelings of uselessness are more unbearable than the hunger and misery. There's not much more Shinji can do than reassure himself that everything will be alright as Hiyori grumbles her energy away and Ichigo sleeps uneasy, cold and a little more broken than he had been before. Shinji's not sure of the outcome of their imprisonment, but _alright_ is a nicer word than _dead_ to fall asleep to, and sleep he does, in fleeting starts of sorts. He fights exhaustion for as long as he can (because one of them has to), but it consumes him eventually. Sometimes he dozes for minutes; sometimes for hours. When he wakes Ichigo remains immobile, shuddering and muttering to himself, and Hiyori is always either curled in the corner or glaring daggers across the cell.

Until Shinji wakes and she's not (not here, not _anywhere_); but silent, the prison stays, as if undisturbed by her disappearance.

(It's not really a _disappearance_ though, is it?)

The Visored leader curses himself. He shuffles over to the bolted door and peers through the cells, but there's no movement to indicate when and where Hiyori had been taken. He can't imagine she put up anything less than a hell of a fight, so that he slept through her abduction is worrying. Chalking it down to sheer exhaustion doesn't make him feel any better, but Shinji knows he has no other excuse. Watching Ichigo's body struggle between life and death has been bone-dead tiring for them both, though the past few days have proven how stubborn the teenager can be. Shinji has faith that Ichigo will survive whatever tortuous process Aizen's men put him through, yet the guarantee of their surviving this prison is growing slim with every hour.

He hopes the Soul Society will make their move soon. Shinji has never been a drastic person, but he fears he will have to be if nothing is done.

With little to do but wait for Hiyori's return, the blond Visored returns to Ichigo's side. He checks the boy's pulse and wipes the sweat from his forehead, pleased that his condition hasn't deteriorated. The substitute twitches under his touch which is a good sign, so Shinji calls the teen's name quietly, drawing him from his restless slumber.

Ichigo grumbles back at him, complaining like an adolescent having their thirteen hour nap disturbed.

"Alright kiddo," Shinji says, using the hated nickname for the fun of it. (Hiyori would snort and chip in with something vulgar if she were here). "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Piss off," Ichigo slurs, but he opens his eyes and obediently finds the hand hovering over his nose. "Two."

He's correct, so Shinji lowers his hand, gratified to see that the substitute is aware this time. Although Ichigo's body is still reluctant to kick the bucket, there had been a few terrifying near misses in the last few days that had almost sent them _both_ to an early grave.

(Shinji hadn't realised quite how _attached_ he had gotten).

"You hurt anywhere?" he asks the slowly waking teenager, watching with the faintest of amusements as Ichigo begins to comprehend that he's wrapped up in a warm cocoon. He probably feels ridiculous, but it's better than the alternative (dead and Hollow pale).

"No, no," Ichigo replies, frowning. Confusion deepens his scowl, and it is answer enough to Shinji to conclude how the substitute is feeling. "I'm just - really warm."

Shinji lays a hand on the blanket pile, halting the substitute before he can unwittingly undo all of his hard work by wiggling free. "That's the idea," he stresses, patting what he thinks is Ichigo's arm. "Sit tight, you're not out of the woods yet. I wanna make sure you're not going to do something like hyperventilate on me, ya hear me?"

"Don't really have a choice, do I?" Ichigo mumbles, scowling darkly from beneath the blankets.

"Good boy."

"_Get lost_."

Shinji laughs. He's missed Ichigo's blunt-force sarcasm in the treacherous silence of the hypothermia, and he's glad to be on the receiving end of it again. Ichigo's broody-quiet is a frequent storm in Soul Society, but the primal still of self-preservation is not one _anybody_ would ever associate with the substitute. It had frightened Shinji to see it in the boy; to see him closed in on himself like a cagey animal. Ichigo's signs of life are threaded with aggravation and cynical comments, and they're music to Shinji's ears in the dreary devastation of the dungeon they are trapped in. He's even started enjoying listening to Hiyori cursing everything and everyone to hell and back, which is something Shinji will never admit to her rounded, furious face.

(Or he might, perhaps, if she returns in anything less than one piece).

Ichigo doesn't recall anything about Hiyori's disappearance when asked, but Shinji hadn't expected the ginger to have woken to the scuffle anyway. They have no way of knowing how long she has been gone for, or for what reason she was taken (beyond idle boredom or a maniac's amusement), so the Visored leader gets comfy in his chains and waits for her reappearance. Although Ichigo doesn't ask for any, Shinji has nothing reassuring to say to the younger Visored, so they pass the time by brief conversation and staring at the stains upon the walls.

Ichigo alternates between dozing and trying to set the blankets alight with his eyes. That he succumbs to sleep so frequently suggests that his body is still exhausted with its healing, so Shinji does his best to ignore the teenager's attempts at creating a fire hazard. It's entertaining, he'll admit, but utterly futile. A shame.

A guard comes by some unknown time later and lobs a few rolls of bread through the cell bars. Shinji catches the first and second but misses the third, which sails past and plonks down onto Ichigo's nose. The teenager's yelp as he jolts into consciousness prompts the Arrancar guard to howl with laughter, spluttering and shrieking profanities, and Shinji would throw something back to make him eat his words if their food wasn't the only object available to him.

"Arsehole," Ichigo grumbles, and though his expression implies he wants to say more on the subject, he's too busy trying to reach the bread to explore the ruder expanse of his vocabulary.

Conceding, Shinji pockets the spare roll. It sits heavy in his trousers, the promise of Hiyori's return weighing on his mind.

He pauses for a second, and then tears his own roll in two. One half the Visored hesitantly chews on; the other is added to his pocket. Hiyori'll need the energy more than he, and he imagines she will be hungry when she returns.

He's right.

It is not the lazy Espada duo that hull Hiyori back, but a nameless Arrancar donning a sharp expression and a black eye, no doubt caused by the fuss the little Visored is putting up at being slung over his shoulder. She doesn't cease her kicking and cursing right up until the moment the Arrancar dumps her back into the cell; he chains her down, and this earns him a snarl and a swipe which nearly takes out his eye. There's blood sticking Hiyori's ferocity together, dribbled black across her cheek, but the Arrancar seems the more wounded of the two as he flees the prison with his tail between his legs.

"Cock-sucking dandelion," Hiyori hisses, crossing her arms with a glower.

_Joy_, Shinji thinks. The grin that widens across his face isn't as invisible as he would like, but as Hiyori continues to mutter outrageous insults under her breath, he finds he doesn't give a damn.

"Never would have guessed you were back," Ichigo mumbles with a roll of his eyes, smirking across the cell. He is still wrapped in the blankets like a giant orange caterpillar, but against the wall he sits, supporting himself, and it's the healthiest Shinji has seen him in weeks.

"Oh _look who's finally up_," Hiyori snaps back, scrutinising him with a glare. It's not the most frightening look she has ever targeted him with - the blood caked down the side of her face detracts from the venom in her eyes - and she only holds it for a second before huffing and turning away. "About time really, dickhead."

"Midget," is Ichigo's instantaneous reply.

Shinji stays silent and wonders why he was even worried in the first place. His companions exchange insults for a while longer, the dexterity amplifying with each bout. He considers throwing the spare bread into the mix to shake things up, but at the sound of Ichigo's startled laughter he decides against it. Rather, he sits back and catalogues the bruises and cuts that Hiyori reveals as her temper animates her. She doesn't appear to be in too much pain as she moves, but Shinji is knowledgeable in how fine an art torture can be and he has his doubts.

It isn't until Hiyori freezes mid-sentence and whips around to face him, however, that she suggests anything is out of the ordinary.

"Shit!" she curses, her eyes widening almost comically as a memory, a realisation dawns on her. "Shinji - shit!"

"What?" he breathes; beside him, Ichigo's mouth clicks shut, expecting the worst.

"I heard some science-y twit say they think a shinigami has been spotted in Hueco Mundo, not far from here," Hiyori gasps, her words rambling out at a hundred miles an hour. "Apparently a surge of reiatsu set off a sensor or something; extremely powerful, probably captain-class. That was all I got to hear but it pissed the Espadas right off. You think it's the others?"

With the reiatsu-cuffs around their wrists they have no way of knowing, but Shinji knows his vagabond group well, and he knows they wouldn't sit patiently while somebody else took care of the action. Hiyori is clearly thinking the same because there is a light in her eyes; rekindled and bright against the grime and blood that adorns her. The Visored leader nods to her question, too tired and worried to fabricate the safety of a lie, and tugs at the metal band around his wrist.

He's spent weeks trying to get these damn things off, but one more attempt couldn't hurt.

The clattering of chains suggests his companions agree.

* * *

><p><strong>V<strong>

This is the way the world ends.  
>This is the way the world ends.<br>This is the way the world ends.  
>Not with a bang but a whimper.<p>

_- The Hollow Men by T.S. Eliot_

* * *

><p>Although he has sat waiting and waiting for any sign of change in the fortress of Las Noches, Lisa's appearance out of literally <em>nowhere<em> still manages to surprise the Visored leader. Her eyes are fierce against the level apathy of her expression, but when she catches sight of him lifting a shackled hand to wave a greeting, her mouth twists downwards in displeasure.

"Well," she mutters, sweeping her gaze across the cell. Her next sentence is cut off by Hiyori's shriek of impatience, demanding to be released from their captivity, but the dark haired Visored merely gives a sigh at the vulgarity.

The colossal weight of her shikai hardly a feather in her hands, Lisa smashes open the prison with a single swing. The deafening sound doesn't bring any Arrancar running to investigate, but a brief shunpo later and the emerald green of Kisuke Urahara's character flashes into sight.

"Urahara-san!" Ichigo blurts, kicking off the last of the blankets and chucking Shinji's jacket back at the Visored with a burst of energy. Unable to dodge it Shinji grumbles a complaint as the zip clips his chin, and Lisa smiles despite herself as she pulls out a mobile from her pocket.

"Deary me," says the scientist, echoing Lisa's tone as he steps over the remains of the cell bars. "Lets get you out of those suppressors, hmm?"

He goes to Ichigo first, laying down the released form of Benihime beside the boy's leg.

Shinji only watches for a moment, trusting Kisuke to have a solution in mind, before turning to the slender figure standing guard in the hallway. "What's going on?" he asks, indicating to the phone. He still can't tell who else has invaded Las Noches with the cuffs still attached to his wrists, but he knows a large group would be needed to thoroughly distract Aizen and the entirety of his army.

Up above somewhere, a distant explosion rocks the foundations of the building. Shinji can only just make it out from the dark corner he's chained to, so the fight must be taking place further away than he had previously thought.

"We're getting you out of here," says Lisa.

"I'd guessed that," Shinji drones, rattling the chains for added effect.

She rolls her eyes at him, but the motion is a familiar fond amusement. "Then don't ask stupid questions."

He laughs and turns to raise an expectant eyebrow as Kisuke moves towards him. Behind the hasty ex-captain, Ichigo wobbles to his feet and blinks away a rush of dizziness, trying to hide that he's leaning against the wall for support. Shinji watches the substitute as Kisuke works on releasing the cuffs; Ichigo's legs clearly don't want to hold him up, and the teenager takes a deep breath, reaching out for something -

Fiery black reiatsu gushes into the prison like a storm, but the only sound that follows the thunderous explosion is Ichigo's whimpering curse as he collapses back to the ground.

Shinji would jump up to help him if he could.

"Are you alright there, Kurosaki-san?" Kisuke asks pleasantly, though the Visored leader doesn't miss the flash of concern on the scientist's face as he turns to check the teenager.

"He's been hypothermic," Shinji whispers, low enough so that only Kisuke will hear him. "Days. A week. I'm not certain."

"I see," says the shopkeeper as Ichigo waves away the concern. The substitute doesn't appear to be injured, but he doesn't immediately try to get up again. Instead, he grapples around for something out of sight with frantic motions, and then lifts the hefty hilt of Zangetsu into his lap.

Shinji feels a rush of longing at the sight of the zanpakuto and hurries Kisuke to get on with his work. He's _missed_ Sakanade.

"Hurry it up," Lisa says, stuffing the phone back into her jacket. She balanaces her shikai against her and motions down the corridor, towards the only exit. "We've got to get moving."

"My, my, so impatient," Kisuke sing-songs, unlatching the last of Shinji's suppressors even as Hiyori kicks him into working faster.

Shinji blanks out of the next few minutes as his reiatsu rushes out, screaming and snarling in anger but warm and comforting against him. Sakanade rages a storm inside of their inner world, a wild, lively presence in the back of his mind, and the Visored soothes her as best he can despite the weary aches of his bones.

**Call me**, she hisses, stalking around her domain. **Call me!**

_Not even a hello?_ he replies, but he wills his zanpakuto to form in his hand anyway, fitting comfortably where it belongs.

"Don't do anything too drastic," Lisa reprimands, eyeing the blade, and Sakanade shrieks with laughter.

"When have I ever been a drastic person?" Shinji pouts, mimicking Ichigo's earlier movements and trying to stand. His legs tremble with shock; they feel weightless and numb beneath him, as if they're still chained to the ground. He has to stick Sakanade into the floor to balance himself, apologising to the spirit all the while, but she doesn't offer any complaint. He never knew standing straight was so challenging, but it takes him a couple of minutes to feel stable in his new height.

Another explosion rumbles through the ceiling, this one closer than before. The threat of battle gives Shinji the boost he needs to wobble across the prison and motion encouragingly to Ichigo.

"_God_," the teenager curses, grudgingly taking the offered hand to hull himself up, the weakest and the strongest Shinji has ever seen him. "I'd kill for a shower."

Shinji laughs and pats the boy's shoulder, helping him hobble out of the prison. "Is that you calling dibs?"

Ichigo hardly even considers it. "Fuck yes," he breathes, letting his lips quirk into a smirk as Hiyori yells a complaint, glaring daggers across the room. "Should've been faster, midget."

"Should've let you freeze to death," she grumbles.

Shinji shares an exasperated look with Lisa. She mouths _how did you survive these two_ as he passes.

("Pig-head!"

"Cock-sucking dandelion."

"Oi, that's _my_ insult - !")

He can honestly say that he has absolutely no idea.

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes<strong>: Wow I had so much fun writing this - please leave a review as you go! :)


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